As Bharata wandered through the forest, his eyes fell upon a silken garment—Sītā’s upper cloth—caught and clearly visible, its delicate threads entangled in the foliage. Nearby, he saw the simple bed where his brother Rāma had rested. Bharata reflected that this humble resting place must have been comfortable for Rāma, and that the gentle, ascetic Maithilī, Sītā, despite her delicate nature and virtue, had not suffered hardship while lying beside her husband. Yet, sorrow weighed heavily on Bharata’s heart. He lamented, “Alas, I am truly cruel, for it is because of me that Rāghava, my noble brother, must sleep on such a bed with his wife, as if without support.” Bharata remembered Rāma’s royal heritage—born in a lineage that brought joy to all, beloved by the people—and grieved that Rāma had abandoned his cherished kingdom. “How is it,” Bharata wondered, “that Rāghava, dark as a blue lotus, with red eyes and a delightful presence, who deserves only happiness and no suffering, lies here on the ground?” He praised Lakṣmaṇa, calling him truly blessed and most fortunate, for Lakṣmaṇa, marked by auspicious signs, followed his brother Rāma even in adversity. Vaidehī, Sītā, had fulfilled her purpose by accompanying her husband into the forest, but Bharata and the others were left behind, deprived of Rāma’s company. The earth seemed empty to Bharata, as if bereft of its rivers, with King Daśaratha gone to heaven and Rāma dwelling in exile. No one even desired the kingdom, though Rāma lived in the forest, for it was protected by the strength of his arms. Ayodhyā itself was changed: council chambers stood empty, horses and elephants wandered unrestrained, city gates were open, and the royal treasury unguarded. The army was dispirited and diminished, facing adversity and unprotected; even enemies did not covet the kingdom, as one avoids food mixed with poison. Moved by devotion, Bharata resolved, “From today, I too will lie on the ground or on grass, eat only fruits and roots, wear matted hair and bark garments. For Rāma’s sake, I will happily dwell in the forest for the rest of my days, keeping this promise, and it shall not be false.” He knew that Śatrughna, for his brother’s sake, would not remain with him, but would join Lakṣmaṇa to protect Ayodhyā. Bharata prayed, “May the twice-born priests anoint the descendant of Kakutstha in Ayodhyā. May the gods fulfill this true wish of mine, as I bow my head in supplication, if Rāma does not return in many ways.” If Rāma remained in the forest, Bharata vowed to stay there, longing for him, unable to abandon his brother. After spending the night on the banks of the Ganges, Rāghava rose early and spoke to Śatrughna, “Śatrughna, rise! Why are you still lying down? Go quickly and bring Guha, king of the Niṣādas. He will help us ferry the army across safely.” Śatrughna replied, “I am not sleeping; I am awake, thinking only of that noble one.” As the two lion-like brothers spoke, Guha approached at the proper time, hands joined in reverence, and addressed Bharata, “Kākutstha, did you spend the night comfortably on the riverbank? Is all well with you and your army?” Bharata, ever obedient to Rāma, replied, “O king, our night was comfortable, and we were honored by you. Now let your boatmen ferry us across the Ganges with many boats.” Guha, hearing Bharata’s request, hurried into the city and spoke to his kinsmen, “Rise up, awaken, may you always be blessed! Gather the boats; we must ferry the army across.” At his command, they quickly assembled five hundred boats from all sides. Some were marked with the svastika, adorned with great bells, splendid with flags, fitted with sails, and firmly constructed. Guha brought a boat marked with the svastika, covered with pale blankets and sounding with auspicious drums. Bharata and mighty Śatrughna boarded it. Kausalyā, Sumitrā, the other royal women, the priest, elders, Brāhmaṇas, royal wives, carts, and shops followed. Fires were lit for their camps as they entered the river crossing, and the clamor of those carrying their goods reached the heavens. The boats, adorned with flags and manned by skilled boatmen, swiftly carried the people across. Some boats held women, others horses, and others great wealth harnessed to vehicles. After reaching the far shore and disembarking, the boatmen and their kin began making various arrangements with bamboo poles. The elephants, adorned with victory banners and urged on by their riders, crossed and shone like mountains with flags. Some crossed in boats, others on rafts; some used water jars, and others swam with their arms. The virtuous army crossed the Ganga by various means and, at an auspicious hour, proceeded to the excellent forest of Prayaga. Bharata, after comforting and settling the troops, set out with his priests to visit the eminent sage Bharadvaja. He approached the hermitage of the great Brahmin, the priest of the gods, and beheld the beautiful grove of huts and trees in the splendid forest belonging to the distinguished sage. Thus ends the eighty-ninth chapter of the glorious Ayodhya Book in the sacred, original poem, the Ramayana of Valmiki. Seeing Bharadvaja’s hermitage from a distance, Bharata, foremost among men, stationed all the troops and went forward with his ministers.